


Like Father, Like Daughter

by Kaiiner



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: F/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:58:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiiner/pseuds/Kaiiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life as Svenhuund child wasn't an easy life, and it wasn't exactly practical but they made do. Being thrown into wild circumstances comes with the lifestyle they live...but just how wild can things get when circumstances begin to involve assassins, Templars, ancient technology and desert landscape?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The thing about the Svenhuund family is that they lived a little off the grid; a relatively normal family, with a home-schooled little girl, working parents, and “extended family” that would drop in and out unannounced. Let's just say normal is relative. One of her parents would be gone for days or weeks at a time, but they’d always bring home cool little trinket from their trip, so she never bothered asking for details. It was nice, for a little house in the middle of a forest in Northern Canada. But that was life for the Svenhuund’s. They’d hunt for what they could and bought what they couldn't from the local stores. It wasn't an easy life, and it wasn't exactly practical but they made do._

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ _  
_

“Ysabeau, we’re wasting daylight. You need to gather the traps while I run into town for supplies.” Ysabeau whined into her pillow, tugging the heavy duvet around her ears. It was far too early and too warm to wake now. Unfortunately, nothing was too early for a huffing Keaghan, ripping the blankets off the bed and the pillow from under Ysabeau’s head, “I don’t understand how people like your father and mother raised such a lazy girl…Such a handful.”

Ysabeau squeezed her eyes shut, _‘Maybe if I don’t answer, he’ll just go away…and I can sleep my day away!’_ The click-clack of nails of the wood flooring and the sudden heavy weights of two dogs trundling all over her bed made that impossible though.

“Oh, and the dogs need to go out too. Don’t forget to put their collars on again.” Keaghan turned pointedly on his heels and stomped out of her room. “Come on, get up. If your father were here, you wouldn't still be in bed.”

Ysabeau sat up on elbows, a deep set glare on her face, “Uh, excuse you! That was your fault for leaving the door propped. You’re lucky he even came back, and with food to boot! Better than anything your lousy traps could reign in.” But she only caught the tail-ends of his coat disappearing down the hall. Ysabeau pulled herself up in bed, putting more energy into the long groan she let out than moving, she stared at each of her fluffy babies, “So who’s going outside first?” Both dogs titled their heads at ‘outside’ before the mad scramble to get to the door first ensued. That would buy her the 10 minutes or so she would need for a quick shower before they came back with the twin _‘why the hell aren't we outside yet?’_ looks.

That’s how Ysabeau ended up outside in the rain, dressed in some white Halifax denim leggings and a black studded tank top underneath a long hooded coat. Her boots kicked at the ground while she followed the loping gait of the two canines. Ysabeau glanced up from where she was taking apart an empty trap when a rally of alert barks cut through the patter of rain. She could see Dimmu (a black Shepherd) and Veli (a brown Shepherd with a black streak down his back) with bouncing and howling at the air further down the path, pacing in anxious circles. The quick flash of gold lights, the sound of metal on metal and shouts pushed Ysabeau into action, ditching the trap and racing after the dogs ahead of her.

The whiz of a bullet passing by and nicking a tree halted her tracks. The sight of Keaghan trapped in a stalemate with another man, wrestling for control over the fired handgun. Keaghan managed to cuff him with a sharp elbow, the quick action and shock loosening the attackers grip and the gun dropped into the wet mud beneath their feet. Both men pushed, taking steps to gather their stances and circle one another. From his belt, Keaghan drew a moderate sized hunting knife as he lunged at the unknown man…or tried, as it seemed. He was frozen midstride in an aura of white and gold.

“Well, it looks like it just you and me, little Beau. Now that the pest is occupied,” The attacker turned to her, lower his arm from where he had it aimed towards Keaghan and taking slow steps toward her. Her face paled when he pulled a knife of his own on her.

“Wh-What did you do to him?” Ysabeau stumbled back, trying to leave distance between them.

“ _’What did I do?’_ It’s quite obvious. I froze him in time, at least his own time, but he’ll be fine in a matter of minutes. However, it won’t last too long, which is why we need you, little Beau.” The attacker slowly circling her, giving a cynical grin, “I mean this is technically your heritage.” He held up the chain dangling from his grip, the charm hanging from it was a gold, metal-looking pendant.

“Me..? What could I possibly do for you? I don’t even know what that is or who you are.” Ysabeau slowly shifted her feet, trying to create some running distance between her and her aggressor.

“I’m just someone who wants to help better the world for everyone, and with your help, we can unlock the power of every piece like this one,” he raised the pendant, showing off the white, hazy glow around it. “The Templars need you to do that and it’s not hard, I promise. All we need is for you to join us, partake in our quest. Your father and mother have been keeping you from your destiny, keeping you sheltered from everything. All you have to do is come with me.”

“You’re insane if you think I’d actually go with you when you just attacked my friend.”

He sighed, “Well, you’re coming with me, regardless of what you think. I guess we will be doing it the hard way.” He could only manage a few quick steps before a black figure grasped his arm and drug him to the ground. Dimmu bit into his forearm, thrashing viciously as he shouted, dropping his knife. Suddenly Veli slide up to him, chomping down on the hand that held the pendant, tugging and shaking with ferocious intent. With his concentration focused on his desperate attempt to dislodge the dogs, Keaghan was dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing for air. He stumbled to his feet, rushing to stand between the man and Ysabeau, whistling for the dogs to back down. With both Dimmu and Veli no longer tearing at his arms, the so called ‘Templar’ staggered as he rose to his feet, “Girl, you are a fool. All of the assassin’s are fools if they believe they can stop us from achieving our goal. We will have her, whether she wants to help us or not!” He lifted his mangled and bloody hand towards them, making a shocked noise when he realized he no longer held the pendant. He searched around his feet for it before stopping to stare at Veli, the golden chain dangling from his muzzle.

“That mutt of yours has something of mine and I suggest you give it back.” He took a faltering step forward, shifting back when Keaghan lurched forward. Ysabeau knelt by Veli’s side, shifting the chain out of his messy teeth. However, at the slight touch to the actual pendant, it flashed and began to shake minutely, the vibrations slowly mounting. A sharp flash of golden light created a hazy sphere around Ysabeau, Dimmu and Veli curled around her legs. The raindrops that had been pouring down on them were now suspended about her, the splashes of mud around her feet jumping in slow motion, the sound of wind whirling around them almost deafening but the dead wind inside the sphere was eerie. She could see the man and Keaghan pushing at each other, Keaghan shouting at her but his voice came through faintly. The pendant began to pulse in her hand, the sphere pulsating in time causing white ripples in the sphere.

Dimmu and Veli barking and yipping…

Her heartbeat pounding in her throat…

Blood rushing behind her ears…

A bright flash of white light taking over her vision…

And then it was getting warmer, the air was dry as it circulated around her.

Her hands clenched around the feeling of gritty sandy covering a stone floor. Her eyes adjusting to the brighter light, took in rough cave walls around them causing a slight echo at the click-clack of the dog’s nails. Both dogs nudged their owner’s face, circling close to the bright cave entrance. Ysabeau unhooked their leads from her waist, attaching them to each dog’s collar as they tried to drag her out of the small enclosure.

__-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-1st_-_POV-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__

The narrow ledge in front of the entrance led off to my left, reaching down into a somewhat empty path between a few buildings. I kept Dimmu and Veli behind me as I navigated the ledge cautiously. I stepped out slowly from the alley and onto the busy pathway, men and women passing by with baskets and bags in their arms.  Men were dressed in dingy, earthy-colored clothing, most without shoes even. The women were dressed head to toe in long dark cloaks, and I was getting quite the dirty look from mostly everyone. I grimaced and pulled my hood over my head, fidgeting with the weight of the new pendant hanging about my neck alongside my necklace.

"We aren't in Canada anymore, now are we…?” Veli yipped and yanking at his lead aggressively, pulling Dimmu’s attention as well, who growled and bared his teeth, "What is up with you today?" I questioned them before I heard a thickly accented shout.

"Stop, woman!"

 _‘Woman?’_ Turning around, ready to rip into this guy, I saw a figure fully clad in what looked like chain mail underneath a long robe, an angry red crossed spread wide across the chest of his gear. His face was undetectable to see behind the metal helmet, but his voice still carried.

"E-euh…" I squinted, confusion as to why a man would be dressed in something so heavy in heat like this, but when someone draws a sword and starts charging at you, you tend to stop questioning things like that,"Oh shit." The heavy clink of his armor as he ran spurred my feet into a sprint.

"Damn woman!" The Templar shouted in a thick French accent.

"You know this is not necessary! You could put the sword away and stop chasing me! I could stop running, we could talk! We could be friends about this whole thing and laugh later!"  I shouted over my shoulder, mentally panicking when two more pairs of feet joined the one. Dimmu and Veli ran ahead of me, taking a quick detour at the opening to an alley. I turned into the alley only to meet a dead end…Thanks, guys, thanks a lot.

I shuffled around, my back to the stone wall when the armored man and two other men, dressed in simpler clothing, rounded the corner. Reaching for my boot, I withdrew a hunting knife, wielding it firmly in my hand. I’d thank dad for all his training now, but what good can I do against a full sized sword? Who the hell carries a sword around? p>

"Regardez cette fille! Elle veut nous battre, et avec un petit couteau comme ça? C'est ridicule.” The French Templar spoke. I glared and took a defensive stance in front of Dimmu and Veli, both looking primed for battle; I wouldn't risk having them hurt. Suddenly, one of the men slumped down to his knees before falling to the ground, immobile and bleeding from a knife in his neck. The knight prodded the fallen body but did nothing else. Out of seemingly nowhere, a man in all white pounced on the knight, shoving him to the ground. This new man drew a sword of his own, thrusting forward into the other man’s stomach. The knight regained his footing and charged at the hooded man. They clashed swords for a few long moments then the white robed man planted a boot firmly against his opponents’ knee. The loud snap and scream emanating from the knight were horrifying, but they didn't last long after the quiet sound of metal piercing cloth and flesh. I stared at the draining bodies; the blood ran through the cracks in the ground and stained their faces. The man in white turned to me now, the sword was still held menacingly in his hand. For every step forward, I stumbled back one of my own, the dogs whimpering now.

“You seem familiar, but I don’t often associate with women. And not women who get themselves in trouble with Templars either.” The white robed man wiped his blade on his bracer before sheathing it.

"Trust me; I won’t make a habit of it. But I don’t know you so…Thanks! You know, for the assist, I had it covered, obviously, but, you know…thanks.” I rambled, shoving my knife back into its holder inside my boot, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his anger. The robed man seemed to fixate on my hand, fidgeting with the chain of my necklace where it lay atop my jacket now, shifted from the running.

“Where did you get that necklace?” He took a short step forward, chancing a glance at the two large canines that growled at his unwarranted approach.

“It’s my father’s.” I snapped, tapping both dogs on the head to sit by my heel, their ears perked and hackles raised down their spines to curled tails.

"Oh really," I heard the sarcasm trill in his tone, "Then do tell, who is your father? If he wears the symbol of an assassin, surely I know him."

 _‘The symbol of an assassin? What is going on here?’_ "Like my dad would bother to know someone as rude as you."

"Then tell me your last name, woman. Give me a reason not to kill you where you stand." He thrust out a hand, yanking on the front of my jacket, dragging me almost off my feet.

"Svenhuund, now back the hell off." From my new vantage point, I could see the squint of his golden-brown eyes, the unyielding line of his mouth pulling at the white scar line, the stern set of his jaw; he wasn't buying any bit of what I was saying. I pried his iron grip off my jacket front, stumbling back to my own feet.

"Altair, where are you, you fool?" I heard a man call from the rooftop, another one? Geez…My luck is just amazing today...

"Down here, Malik." The man now deemed Altair shouted. The supposed Malik dropped from the roof, clad in the same robes as Altair.

"Are we harassing more women?" Malik joked, looking at me. I glared at him, and crossed my arms.

“Oh, ha ha.  That’s funny… _jackass_.” I mumbled under my breath, glancing around carefully for a quick exit. There wasn’t much of one, not with these two.

"This woman claims to be Svenhuund’s child…" Altair crossed his arms, showing Malik his general disagreement.

“Sire’s daughter?" Altair nodded at Malik’s shock, "What should we do then?" Malik asked.

"We could kill her...save ourselves the trouble." Altair stated simply, tipping his head up like he was trying to think of any other option—"Hey now! Don't I get a say?" I exclaimed, squawking when Altair shook his head and shoved me away from him.

“You want to kill the girl that might be the Master Assassin’s only child?” Malik was clearly the one with some sanity. “The child that Sire speaks so highly of? The one who Basil jokingly asked to wed and ended up in the infirmary for two weeks for it? Yes, let’s just kill her.”

“He won’t know if we, **_you¸_** don’t tell.”

A swift kick to the shin had Altair hissing, hopping and shaking out his leg as he bore holes through me. I flipped him both fingers, “To hell with you, dude. You can’t just kill peo-” I looked at the dead bodies behind him, “…You can’t just kill me!”

“I can, and I will.” He lunged out, catching an open hand to the face and an elbow to the chest. His grip remained tight in the fabric of my clothing even with two hands batting at his head, kind of pathetically too _—_

_“Stop moving already.”_

_“Let me go then!”_

_“I will once you’re dead.”_

_“I’m gonna tell my dad.”_

_“You won’t have breathe left in you to do it.”_

_“Malik will tell him, because he’s not an absolute dickwad like you.”_

_“A man like Sire would never raise such a harlot like you.”_

_“But your harlot of a mother did raise an utter dumbass like you.”_

_“Stop fighting so I can rid you of your life.”_

_“Go to hell, you fuck.”—_

"She certainly has his attitude, and his temper. I'm beginning to believe her." Malik laughed, sitting idly while both dogs sniff the flaps of Malik’s robes. “We should just bring her. If she isn't, then we take care of it then.”

"You're as delusional as she is…" Altair rubbed his sore cheek, "Come on, girl. You're coming with us to meet you _'father'…"_ He grasped my arm and yanked me towards the wall. "Climb."

I didn't move an inch, looking pointedly between the wall and Altair, "You want me to climb that…?" He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. I jumped back when Altair reached out for me, “Enough with the grabby hands already!”

"Then start climbing." He threatened me as he reached for a handhold on the wall.

"Dogs can’t climb walls."

"You are a handful…Malik, get the dogs."

"And you're an ass. What’s your point?" I watched Malik attempt to pick up either dog, or at least get close enough to do so. Dimmu would snap his jaws, snagging the end of his sash, and Veli would jump in and out of his reach, thinking this was a game. “Dimmu, Veli down. Malik's on our side?" Malik nodded hastily, not wanting to be on the bad side of the aggressive dog before him. Both huffed loudly but sat passively before Malik, ears laid back.

“Perhaps we should just stick to the ground, Altair. This girl won’t leave without the dogs, and these dogs won’t let her leave without them,” Malik suggested cautiously. “Plus we don’t know if she can make it across the rooftops, especially now that there are archers, it’d be safer down here.”

Altair groaned loudly, leaning against the wall, “Alright! Fine, we’ll stay on the ground. But this,” He yanked my hood back over my head, “must stay on. If not, you’re on your own.” With that, he turned around and stomped back to the main paths, stepping on the dead bodies. I took a false swipe at the back of his head, grumbling about PMS and men.

Malik snickered but beckoned me to follow, jogging to catch up to Altair. I looked up at Malik, "Are we going yet?"

"Yes…Once Altair is done throwing his fit." He laughed as we looked over at Altair, who stood with his arm crossed and what looked like a pout on his face.

"Just keep up…" He told us, walking away. I shrugged and followed after him, Malik in tow behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

I don’t normally whine, but when I did…I made sure to be annoying, “Can we stop _now_? I’m dying here. I’m suffocating or something; please can we take a break?” I dragged my feet in the sand, kicking up little clouds of dust at the back of Altair’s feet. The stifling heat seemed only to affect me, both Malik and Altair casually walking beside me, the dogs taking advantage of the tall shadows. Many times we had to duck into hiding places and alleyways to avoid guards and the occasional Templar. My calves had a burning pain in them, the feeling of my legs almost giving out. I stopped. My legs stopped moving and just gave out, Dimmu and Veli stopping by my side to nudge at my face with slightly damp noses.

"It's only a few more feet. You can rest inside." Malik reassured me and trying to pull me to my feet. I let him pull me up, huffing but trudging on after Altair who was a few feet ahead, arms crossed again and tapping his foot.

"You are very slow." Altair's monotonous voice cut over the murmur of the city when I walked past him, “You’re going the wrong way.” He nodded to the door in the alley of the stone building.

“You could’ve said something sooner…” I mutter pushing through the door, shoving it back to close in his face. I could hear Altair’s arguing voice on the other side of the barrier, Malik’s calmer voice finishing the conversation as he entered the room.

“Feel free to relax in here. We’ll be in just through there,” Malik pointed to the open doorway. “There are pillows for you to lie on, the fountain water is fresh, I promise.” Malik pressed his hand into Altair’s arm to make him walk into the separated room, waving idly as he exited as well. I looked around the short room, sitting on a few of the cushions near the fountain, touching the relatively cool, clear water in the white basin. Candles lit around the room created a soft glow in the room.  The Shepherds lapped at the water, drenching their fluffy maws in it and then investigating the new area.

“More interesting then collecting empty traps, huh boy?” Veli stood in the doorway, ears perked before laying the closest corner. Dimmu shook small cloud of sand off his coat, continuing to pace around.

“Girl, get in here!” That arrogant voice was grating on my nerves as I felt a headache coming on. I shuffled into the adjacent room reluctantly to find Malik leaning against the counter, Altair standing against the opposing wall with his arms crossed over his chest, and an elder man in white robes with a black robe over it behind a counter.

“You could try to using my name, you know, if you don’t want to come off as an asshole to people.” I sneered at the egotistical assassin.

“You should learn your place.” He stepped up to me and tried to stare me down. Like I’m scared— ok, maybe a little… I tried not to appear frightened by his imposing stance.

“You mean the one that’s way above you?”

“Above me? You’re nothing but a lowly wench!”

“What kind of world do you live in?” I was a few comments away from taking off my boot and attempting to swing it at his head, if only I wasn’t wearing it and afraid that I’d never get it back. I turned to the more polite company in the room, mentally effacing Altair’s presence from the room temporarily. Malik was looking at me with an unsure look but he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face.

“I hate to interrupt,” I turned my attention to the black robed man behind the counter, the presumed proprietor of this building. “I am the Rafiq of this bureau. These two tell me that you claim blood relations to Sire. Is this true?”

I nodded, “Uh, yeah. Do you know where he is?” I put on my best pout, trying to persuade the Rafiq.

“Now, don’t try and pull that trick on me,” _damn…_ “Whether or not you can see him, is not my decision, but Al Mualim’s. He will be the one deciding what is to be done about you.” I sighed and dropped my head on the countertop, how did I not expect that? More men…

Malik placed a hand on my shoulder, “I will be sending a messenger bird back to the fortress and ask what our next course of action should be. In the meantime, you will have to stay here.”

_Wait a minute…_ “What if he doesn’t want to see me? What will he do?”

Malik frowned, glancing at the Rafiq then to me, “We’d have to get rid of you… you know more than you should, we can’t just let you go.” Fuck me. This place just wants to suck the life out of you.

“So I’m basically waiting here to die?”  I whined, whose bright idea was it to put me here?

“No need to be so morbid, little one, I doubt the Master would be so hasty as to order your death,” _I wouldn’t put it past him._ “From what I’ve been told, you have caused no harm. It is against our creed to kill an innocent.” The Rafiq basically offered me a shrug and a 'what else can you?' as an answer.

_Seriously…?_ Despite my obvious bad mood, the Rafiq offered me a gentle smile. I almost returned it until I heard that snarky voice.

“I don’t see why he would need to see a wench; you are only wasting his time and mine.” I glared my hardest at him but left the room, I’ll be the better one and just not remark. I found my spot again in the mound of pillows unoccupied by the dogs, thinking. What if I just lucked out and found the only other man named Sire Svenhuund? But if it actually is him, why would he be here? **How** would he get here? How did **I** get here in the first place? This was all just asinine.

“Are you hungry, Svenhuund?” Malik’s gentle voice broke through my thoughts. He carried a plate of food in each hand, offering one to myself as he seated himself across from me. “I assumed you would be hungry after all the work you did this morning. I’d apologize for Altair’s inappropriate behavior but knowing him, he will continue to act his way unless he really gets to know you. I hope you will be able to know the friendlier side of him, Svenhuund.”

“You can call me Ysabeau, I guess.” I picked up the least suspicious item of food on the plate, it looked like bread. Nibbling on it confirmed as much and I consumed the whole thing in hunger. Dimmu and Veli whined helplessly, belly crawling over the pillows for the food. I took what looked like meat and hand-fed bits to each of them.  When the plates were clear, Malik took both and returned instead with paper and a quill? Where was I that they still used quill, “No pen, eh?”

“Pen?” Malik gave me a confused look, but I had to side-eye him for that but the actual questioning look on his face told me to let it go, “Will you help me in writing this letter to Al Mualim? If you truly are the daughter of the master assassin, Al Mualim will surely ask him to verify the information in this letter. I would like to be sure that what I write is accurate.” I nodded, not like I could do anything else to contribute to this situation. Looking at the page upside down, I noticed that he wrote in English, and now that I think about it, everyone spoke in English as well. Everyone except those guards and that Templar…

“Y-S-A, Malik, not I-E-S-A.” I made quick fixes while he wrote; namely errors and bits of information here and there. After being sure that he’d gotten all the information that he needed, I laid back, sighing and closing my eyes, pushing away all thought of today’s events until tomorrow. Maybe this was just some hyper realistic dream or some freak phenomenon. By the time I woke up the next morning, I’m going to be in my bed, raining pouring down outside instead of blistering heat and a huffy Keaghan at the door.

–––––––––––––––––––Malik–––––––POV––––––––––––––––––––––––––

I regarded the young girl as she dozed in the open room. She did hold strong resemblance to the Master Assassin that I’d seen. Her behaviour and mannerism definitely matched, her looks, temper and cursing habit seemed to be something gained from a parent. I entered the main room of the bureau to see Altair peeking around the corner like an upset cat. I scoffed at his behaviour, “Leave the poor girl alone, Altair. Haven’t you harassed her enough in one day?” He huffed and watched me instead as I attached my letter to one of the Rafiq’s messenger birds, releasing it into the air to take our message back to the fortress.

“Why are we wasting our time with the girl, just dump her in the street or something. People will think she’s insane and disregard her.”

“And if the Templars find her?”

“One tried to kill her before, it’s doubtful.”

“They won’t now that they know she’s with the Assassin’s.” Altair remained tight-lipped, his own plan used against him. “Let’s just retire for the night. Dealing with you has been exhausting.

“She’s laying on all of the cushions-“

“She’s a small girl, Altair. She couldn’t possibly take up all the cushions unlike yourself. Grab some and be quiet.” I dismissed his attempted protest, scrounging up some pillows and making a space for myself for the night. This would be a long journey.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––------––

While Malik had fallen asleep, Altair took the time to think things over. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she did have similar features to the Master Assassin. Her glare matched his in fierceness, chills running within him. He disliked her greatly, he disliked women in general, they were just a huge section of life that he classified as ‘unnecessary trouble’ and steered clear of the temptations. He sighed as he leaned back against the wall, shutting his eyes to fall into the state of mild rest; that sweet space of limbo between consciousness and slumber where he felt at ease.

Elsewhere, just a few hours later, Al Mualim was seated at his desk, marking down names and the like in a thickly bound book. He’d been in the middle of a few words when a rather intrusive messenger bird swooped in and landed on his desk, knocking his hand across the page and pushing over a small stack of stray pages. He sighed and just grabbed the pages, slapping them on his desk. He’ll let one of the scholars fix it or something… Turning his attention to the bird that was currently hopping about his desk, he gripped it gently in his hand and detached the letter from its back and placed it inside the cage with the other chirping birds.

_Master,_

_Though our mission was a success, Altair and I have encountered a small problem. A young girl claims to be the daughter of Sire Svenhuund. Her name is Ysabeau and she is demanding that we bring her to her 'father'. Personally, I don't doubt her too much; she does resemble him in more ways than one. Her eyes are a bright amber. She has the blackest hair, and a spontaneously flaring temper that seemed to fuel an equally defiant and witty mouth. According to Altair, she was a necklace that bears the symbol of the Creed. I would like to know if you would have us bring her to you for questioning. Until we receive word back, she is being held here at the Jerusalem Bureau with Altair and I to watch her._

_-Malik Al-Sayf_

Al Mualim called out to a passing Novice, “Sabir, go and bring me Sire, quickly!” The boy jumped and ran off in the direction of the assassin’s quarters. Before the novice returned with his master assassin, Al Mualim quickly wrote a reply to the eldest Al-Sayf brother. Just as his messenger bird took off through the window, a man about 6 feet tall entered his study, dressed in a black lengthy robes. “You called for me?” The man’s voice was deep with authority.  With his hood lowered and the early morning lighting, his amber eyes seemed brighter than usual. His hair seemed blacker than a raven’s plume, reaching his shoulders and swept back in a lazy disarray.

“I did. Would you mind taking a quick look at this? I received it not too long ago, having a feeling that you would be most interested in it.”  Sire stepped up to his master’s desk and picked up the letter that was passed over the desktop. His eyes look side-to-side as he skimmed the paper, the slightest smile was pulling at the edges of lip but he kept it at bay. “Does this female seem familiar to you? I certainly remember you telling me of your daughter, describing her almost exactly like that…”

The smile that pulled his mouth turned into a smirk as he nodded, “This certainly sounds like my daughter,” his smirk dropped as he continued, “I, however, don’t understand how she got here when she should be safe at home with her mother…Would you give me permission to take her off Malik and Altair’s hands and bring her here myself?”

“No.” The reply bit sharply at Sire’s chest, a slight glare graced his face, “I have sent a reply to Malik to bring her back here, swiftly and unharmed. I’m sure Malik and Altair will ensure the safety of your daughter. Otherwise they have you to answer to." Al Mualim trailed off, waving his hand dismissively. It was clear that was all the input Sire was going to give, so he turned on his heel and marched down the stairs. He had a job to do here, causing trouble would only make that duty difficult…

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:
> 
> "Regardez cette fille! Elle veut nous battre, et avec un petit couteau comme ça? C'est ridicule.” --- (Look at this girl! She wants to fight us, and with such a small knife? This is ridiculous.)


End file.
